A Kinder Place

         Above a bed of hemlock boughs,
         as shadows softly shifting shape ~
         returned the Winter moon to rise,
         and harvest fell to jealous fate.

         In darkness thick as raven flight,
         a river flowed of wing'ed thieves ~
         between a deep and angry wood,
         as garnets cupped in fallen leaves.

         Some mourning people wandered long,
         in days too fast for standing still.
         With rain so hard the air would flood,
         and none the more to change their will.

         Where darkness moved with gristled growl,
         and silver poured to puddled light;
         where warriors kept a sharpened watch,
         for one that came to steal the night.

         Loud the hoof of ancient herds,
         rose and fell in morning flight,
         across forgotten valleys stormed
         as thunder roared to righteous fight.

         Above a bed of hemlock boughs,
         before the first bone moon would grace ~
         I listened loud to stories told,
         of times before ~
         a kinder place.

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